CS Cab AU
by itsalostgirlthing
Summary: Killian gets into a cab and finds that someone is already in there. So much fluff. (A Tumblr prompt I wrote a while ago)


It was raining, but not just a nice rain that made you want to curl up with a good movie or book and drink hot chocolate. No, Emma thought, it was raining like the world was ending and she was stuck in New York traffic.

She looked ahead, trying to peer through the windshield of the cab, but couldn't see a thing. Rain and then clinking sound of hail poured down in sheets over the city and if it weren't for her exhaustion from working overtime, she'd get out and tough it; even with her broken umbrella.

A gust of cold air blew her hair back when the cab door wrenched opened by a man in a very wet coat. His face was hidden from her, but she could clearly hear him curse, 'Bloody hell, this weather.'

"Excuse me," Emma said, scooting as far away from the soaked stranger as she could.

He finally turned to her and she caught her breath. "Oh, hello," he , he was cute.

"This cab's taken. As you can see."

"My apologies, princess. The rain made it a little hard to see, but since I'm already in here, guess you'll just have to put up with it."

"Wow. What a gentleman," she barked back. He frowned a little, the smirk fading away.

"I didn't mean it that way; I was only teasing," he said. "My name's Killian, and I'd be very appreciative if you let me share this cab with you."

She wanted to say no, to cross her arms and pout like a child, tell him this cab was hers, but the warm way he smiled at her melted her childishness away. Why not? It wasn't like they were going anywhere soon anyway. He'd probably just leave after five minutes.

The idea of leaving was more and more tempting every time she thought it.

"Sure, sorry. I'm just tired. Traffic hasn't moved for ten minutes."

"Not surprised. It's dreadful outside."

"Yeah, what were you doing, singing in the rain?" she said wryly. The corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement and he laughed.

"No, I was looking for the prettiest woman to share a cab with."

"Whoa, smooth," she said, unable to keep down a chuckle.

"It got you to laugh, and you strike me as the serious type."

"Like you'd know. You just met me," she said with a raised eyebrow.

"Actually, I haven't. I've told you my name, but you've yet to tell me yours, Miss…?" She weighed the situation in her head. He didn't seem like a creep—a little bit of a flirt, but not sleazy. Anyway she had pepper spray and a mean right-hook. She could take this pretty boy if she needed to.

"Emma."

"Nice name."

"Right back at ya, Killian."

Another fifteen minutes passed and despite the way she was able to make him laugh with her little offhand comments, and her with his flirtatious and challenging retorts, Killian was proving to be even more restless than Emma.

"Alright, this is bloody ridiculous."

"Agreed. It would've been faster to walk."

"There's always the subway," he suggested like they were in this together now. Emma was so tired though, she didn't want to have to stand in what she knew was going to be a packed car with hoards of people squeezing their way in like rats.

"I think I'll walk, thanks," she said quickly, a little disappointed with her own answer and how he'd soon be gone. Why did she always do that to herself? Killian was squinting out the window to the sidewalk, probably judging how long it would take him to sprint over to shelter.

"Very well then," he sighed, and was out of the cab without so much as a goodbye.

'Good going, Emma,' she thought to herself. 'Cute guy with a nice smile that could keep up with your brand of conversation and you just wave him away like there's zero chemistry—' She scooted over to the door and was about to reach for the lever when it was pulled open again. Killian was smiling down at her with a bright blue umbrella that made his own blue eyes glow even more.

"Figured you could use one of these judging by your mangled one; and that lovely woman over there, Aggie, happened to be selling them."

Killian paid the rest of Emma's tab despite her protests and proceeded to walk her up the avenue and into the storm of wind and rain alongside the frozen stream of honking traffic.

Emma directed him where to go, enjoying his presence and the gentlemanly way he held the big umbrella more over her than on him.

They ran the last block, splashing through puddles like little kids—their socks and shoes already soaked through—and laughed breathlessly when they finally reached the lobby of her apartment building.

"Well, this is me," she said with a lightness in her voice that surprised even her. Her tiredness was gone and replaced with something she hadn't felt for a long time—_fun_.

"Alright," he said.

"Swan."

"Wha—"

"Emma Swan," she giggled. _She giggled_.

"Oh," he smiled. "Killian J—"

"Mr. Jones," the doorman greeted on his return to the front of the lobby.

Emma stared after the man in confusion then looked to Killian for an answer.

"As he said," Killian explained with a smirk, "Killian Jones; 9th Floor."

"You—you live here?"

"Yes, and I always see you running out of the elevator in the morning with the most _serious_ expression every day."

"That's because I'm tired," she replied.

"You said you were tired now. And I see you smiling," he said

"Whatever, Jones," she smiled and walked toward the elevator on the right.

Killian moved toward the open car on the left and when he turned around, saying something about grabbing something to eat sometime, Emma caught him mid-sentence with a light, chaste kiss on his scruffy cheek that left him frozen even as she walked away, quick as she came.

"Thanks for the company," she threw back nonchalantly over her shoulder like she hadn't done anything out of the ordinary while she walked to her own elevator, but not before she saw a dazed Killian staring after her as the doors closed shut.

She didn't know what she just did, but damn it felt good. And maybe it was just the adrenaline still pumping in her system, but she laughed at how easy he made her feel.

She reached her apartment and went out onto the balcony, staring up at the sky then to the platform belonging to the apartment above hers and wondered—

She was after all on the 8th floor.


End file.
